


Hot and Cold

by Sayl



Series: Lon'qu / Tharja kiss prompts [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, Light BDSM, Smut, Temperature Play, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 16:51:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18664438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sayl/pseuds/Sayl
Summary: Just a tiny little sexy one-shot I did on tumblr recently. Feat: temperature play!





	Hot and Cold

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not dead, I promise I'll finish that LonLissa modern eventually but I've been obsessed with Lon'qu/Tharja lately. 
> 
> I want to do an ongoing Lon'qu/Tharja fic but I fear it's probably not going to get much traction because this fandom is 10 years old and that rarepair is not as popular as it should be lol.

  It’s not uncommon to find himself on his back, she’d always been the dominant one in most situations. And though sometimes he’ll turn the tables on her, this was not one of those moments. Partly at her request, and partly because…

    Well, frankly he has no idea what to expect here, despite Tharja’s explanation of it. He knows the concept, but doesn’t quite understand what it’s supposed to  _do_ for him. Something about temperature play, pain thresholds. He was familiar with those thanks to her more adventurous nature, just in different packages. He figures it will be something similar. She might have tried this on his back first, if it weren’t for the fact the red lines from her nails were still fresh…

    But he’s open to this.

     He has to admit there’s something alluring about the heavy darkness, the small flickering flame of the candle in her hand being the only thing that illuminates her face and form. The way the shadows frame her make her look powerful, intimidating, elegant. 

_Beautiful_.

_“Flinch if you must, but try not to throw me off you,”_ she warns as she waits for the beeswax to melt. He grunts in reply, acknowledging her words, but offering no argument. His pain tolerance was better than that, even if he doesn’t usually deal well with heat. 

    A few moments later, dark burgundy wax rolls down the side of the candle, the stream increasing as she tilts it. Still straddling him, but her hips perched steady over his so that he doesn’t move, she leans forward slightly and carefully navigates the candle above his chest. A stream of dark wax drips down, landing on his chest in a deliberate line, and he does flinch at the sensation, breath hitching briefly on contact. But otherwise, he doesn’t move, arms still resting back just above his head. Though his fists do clench briefly until the wax cools. And as the rest follows suit, landing on his bare chest, his muscles relax again, quickly growing accustomed to the temperature. The stinging burn of initial contact fades into a pleasant heat, one that travels across his torso in whatever pattern she wills. Occult symbols, random scribbles, geometic patterns…he has no idea, he’s watching her, not the wax. 

    As it continues, he knows what she was talking about now. The pain is still there, but it’s subtly invigorating, not debilitating. And the more she does it, the more he reacts, breathing growing deeper but remaining mostly controlled. The rise and fall of his chest distorts some of the fresher wax trails, the liquid slipping around the cuts of his muscles before solidifying as it cools. A roll of his hips interrupts the stream, drawing a moan from Tharja in response. A followup of the same motion prompts her to move her free hand to his abdomen, fingers digging into his stomach as she bites back another sigh. 

    _“If I spill this on you, you have no one to blame but yourself~”_  she mutters, a nearly undetectable shiver in her voice. But  _he_  notices it, he’s been down this road with her enough to pick up on those more subtle reactions. But rather than go back to remaining still, he moves his hands down grabbing the soft flesh of her thighs instead. Holding her gaze with an almost challenging look of desire, his fingers slide along the skin as he rolls his hips into her again, more deliberate this time…Purposely trying to draw a bigger reaction from her…and he’s not disappointed. Even if a heavier splash of wax hits his chest, burning on his skin. 

    Voice low and husky, his response is firm as his hold on her thighs. 

_**“** Then you can use the ice later to make it up to me  **.”**_


End file.
